


The Lady in Green

by angelicfangirl, Defira



Series: The Angel Legacy [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M, Female Jedi Consular Outlander
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 03:06:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10179293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelicfangirl/pseuds/angelicfangirl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defira/pseuds/Defira
Summary: Calli Amell- or Callistra when she's in trouble- is up to her neck in problems. Her oldest sister, the famed Jedi Barsen'thor, has been a prisoner on Zakuul for five years now and is slowly dying; only the Force bond with her twin Cera has kept her alive as the carbonite slowly poisons her blood. A desperate rescue attempt is underway, and Calli has taken it upon herself to infiltrate a high society gala at the palace, a last ditch effort to acquire the security codes to her sister's prison.She's walking quite literally into the dragon's lair, and the last thing she needs is to catch the eye of the Emperor himself. Her sister's life depends on her success... but perhaps Arcann's unexpected interest in the stranger in green can be twisted to their advantage...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first work in a series by angelicfangirl, but this installment was a Christmas gift from me to her, to encourage her to write her universe. Look out for the further adventures of Calli, Lieca and Arcann from her account soon! And make sure to tell her you definitely want to see more!

Calli rubbed wearily at her eyes and tried her best not to call Theron by a rude name; the temptation was so strong, but Cera had yelled at her last time she’d cussed on the open channel. “I _said_ , I can _handle_ it, Shan,” she said, trying to make the statement sound like it wasn’t coming from between gritted teeth. 

On the holotable in front of her, there were three figures arrayed in a semi-circle, all of whom looked about as tense as she felt. For Lana and Cera, she could understand why they were worked up- Lana was about to attempt to infiltrate one of the most secure facilities in the galaxy on nothing more than her vague assurances that she could get her the access codes, and Cera was drained as always from the effort required to keep her twin alive through the Force bond the two of them shared. Theron, however, was sitting on his Force damned ass all cushy on the slowly growing base back on Odessen, and all he had to do was sit and press a few buttons. Fucking spy-boy, like he understood the stress they were all under. 

But of course he was all _mopey_ because they were finally gonna try and get his _girlfriend_ back for good. Maybe Lieca could shut him up for five minutes when she got free, and Calli could finally be free of his relentless attempts to befriend her. 

On the screen, Theron looked pained at her answer. “Calli, I know that you’re competent, believe me,” he started.

She rolled her eyes and dropped her feet back onto the floor from where they’d been resting on the chair next to her. “Look, Shan,” she said, but Cera cut her off.

“What Calli _means_ to say, Theron, is that if she was concerned about her ability to access the information, she would have said so prior to now,” her older sister said, throwing her a warning look through the channel. “You’ve verified her forgery of the invitation, so we know she shouldn’t have a problem infiltrating the anniversary celebrations. She’s had three years to establish her cover-”

“Yeah, about that, exactly why are you so calm about your little sister being embedded in enemy territory?”

“Oh my fucking god, we are not having this conversation again,” Calli snarled.

“ _Language!_ ” Cera’s tone was not just the voice of the Jedi Battlemaster, feared warrior and tactician- it was also the voice of a mother raising multiple children, who was used to wrangling small screaming people determined to thwart her. 

Lana cleared her throat. “Theron, while I can appreciate your concerns, your repeated insistence on questioning a field agent’s suitability based only on her age and gender is tiresome. Callistra has submitted her proposal, and at this point, we have no other options. We aren’t going to have a better opportunity to extract the Barsen’thor than now.” 

Calli covered her face with her hands, only just resisting kicking the console in the hope it would disconnect. She wasn’t sure what she hated more- the way all of them talked like they were adults and she was some surly teenager instead of a grown ass woman in her late- twenties, or the way they all talked so formal and stilted with their titles and shit, like they were just calmly discussing people other than themselves. Field Agent Amell wasn’t her, the Barsen’thor wasn’t her sister, these were all just ideas of people instead of actual people. 

For want of anything better to do, she picked up her soldering iron again and began casually blackening the edge of the piece she was working on. Her cover here on Zakuul was as a jeweller, specifically an artisan designing high end jewellery for the nobles of Zakuul; the story was that she’d moved out from the Core Worlds three years ago looking to make her fortune in the new centre of the galaxy. A jeweller needed to work with tools, fire, wires- the same things a slicer needed. A jeweller tended to have the occasional burn on their hands, just like a slicer. It wasn’t a perfect cover story, but it got her into the circles she needed to be in; it’d been a slow climb to the top, but she was finally in place. 

Three fucking years. She wasn’t gonna let go of this chance to save her sister just because Theron wanted to stand around wringing his hands nervously. 

Lana was saying something, but she interrupted anyway. “Lieca is dying, Theron,” she said flatly. “I shouldn’t have to remind you of that, of all people, but apparently I do. We’re out of options and _she’s_ out of time, and we don’t have time for you to have a crisis of conscience because you think I’m too fucking immature or some shit.”

“Callistra! Language!”

“Shut up, Cera, you know I’m right.” She rubbed aggressively at her eyes, feeling tears burning there. “I know you can feel her dying.”

“That’s hardly the point,” Cera said disapprovingly. “If you go into this situation hotheaded, then-”

“Oh my god, spare me the ‘ _emotions are bad_ ’ speech. We get it, Jedi don’t want to acknowledge any feelings in case they accidentally catch the dark side, feelings are bad etcetera.”

“That _wasn’t_ what I was going to say, Callistra,” Cera said. Stars, she’d called her Callistra twice now, she was as good as dead. “We can’t send a Force user, because their presence will be detected by the Knights in attendance at the gala. We can’t send anyone with cybernetic implants not registered with Zakuul’s database, because they will also be detected by the security processes. As an unenhanced, non-Force Sensitive, you stand our best chance of moving through The Spire without rousing suspicion, but all of that will be for naught if you can’t control your temper.”

Her words made complete sense, of course, it was why Calli had agreed to this suicidal nonsense in the first place anyway, but it didn’t help that all she heard was the same old painful reminder she’d had unwittingly drilled into her since she’d been born. Not Force Sensitive, not enhanced, not special in anyway. Completely forgettable in every way. Not like her amazing older sisters, the fabulous Jedi warriors and diplomats who had saved the galaxy multiple times over. Not like her flawless cousin, who had a successful career in the military and had so many medals she couldn’t stand up straight when they tried to pin them on her. She was the nothing, the forgotten one, the unimportant one- but hey, that made her perfect for sneaking into fancy shindigs without being noticed, right?

She wiped the back of her hand over her eye again, hoping none of them would notice she’d started crying during the call. “Yep, not like we haven’t been over it a million times already,” she said airily. “Gotta go, now, I’ve got more prep work to do before the gala tomorrow night.”

Lana sighed. “Calli,” she said.

“Don’t worry, your sithfulness, I haven’t forgotten about you. I’ll rendezvous with you as soon as I’ve installed the slice.” She then very pointedly reached over and turned off the holotable, the three blue flickering figures vanishing instantly and leaving her in darkness. 

Well, except for the soldering iron of course; she held up the tiny flame, almost blue towards the centre, and considered pressing it to the tip of her finger. Then she’d have something real to be crying about, instead of just sitting here snuffling pathetically alone in the darkness.

There was a shuffling sound in the doorway behind her, and she set the soldering iron down quickly, grabbing the corner of her sleeve to clean up her face quickly. Someone turned the light on and she winced, plastering a fake smile on before turning around. A giant figure stood in the doorway, furry arms crossed over their equally furry chest. 

“Thought you were at the bar all night tonight,” she said, annoyed at the slight tremor in her voice. 

Bowdaar growled softly, the sound concerned as he crossed over to her and very pointedly picked up the soldering iron and put it on the other table. 

“No, I’ve already talked to them. Just hung up, actually. And don’t avoid my question, why aren’t you downtown, I thought you had some big fights with all the tourists in town.”

The wookiee rubbed her hair affectionately, his meaty paw dwarfing her head as he rumbled again.

“You don’t need to keep an eye on me,” she scolded, although her heart did flutter a little at the offer. “I can absolutely take care of myself. Everything is in place, I’ve just got to finish my last few pieces for the gallery, and I-”

Bowdaar interrupted her, his growls more direct this time. 

Calli hesitated. “Okay, yeah, I guess I could use the company,” she said quietly, “but, you know, just because I like you. Not because I’m scared or anything.”

He cocked his head to the side and purred briefly, rousing a laugh from her. 

“I would much rather be taking you to the gala as my date,” she said, resting against the warm fur on his belly as he hugged her. “Can you imagine how scandalized all those snotty Zakuulans would be if we showed up together? It’d be great, and I’d at least have someone to talk to.”

His answer came a bit grudgingly.

“No, I wouldn’t get into more fights just because you were there, I’d get into less fights, see? Because you’d just do that thing you do where you pick me up and keep me off the ground so I can’t get to them.” 

She buried her face against his fur, and he hugged her there for a time. She pretended she wasn’t crying, and he didn’t say anything about it. 

Eventually she sniffed loudly, leaning back onto her seat and wiping her nose with the back of her arm. “I’m frightened, Bowdaar,” she said quietly. “I have to get this right, or Lieca’s gonna die, but like... what happens when I’m in there? What if I get the slice in time, but they catch me after?”

His answering roar was soft, and he patted her head. 

“Heh, I’d like to see those dumb Knights try to fight after you’ve pulled their arms off,” she said, sniffing in a most undignified manner. She touched his hand, her own dwarfed by his. “Thanks, Bowdaar. I’m okay, I promise.” He growled, and she laughed. “No, shut up, I’m completely fine. You didn’t see anything.” 

His growl sounded doubtful, but he ruffled her hair again and headed towards the door. 

She sighed, and caught sight of her red eyes in the mirror on the workbench; she winced, and turned it over so that it was lying down flat. She was already anxious as all hell, thanks very much, the last thing she needed was to see her face looking all puffy and red like some kind of deformed pureblood. 

The pieces she needed for tomorrow night were almost done, the dubiously appointed highlights of her upcoming collection- although, if everything went according to plan, there would be no upcoming collection, because they’d get Lieca out, and she could get off this festering turd of a planet and go and find something else to do with her life that wouldn’t see herself being compared constantly to her fairly more successful family members. Although, if Bowdaar wanted to stick around to keep smuggling slaves out of the lower levels like he was talking about, maybe she’d have something to do with-

No. If everything went according to plan, it’d never be safe for her to show her face on Zakuul again. 

She picked up her soldering iron, and got back to work. 

____

It was officially five years since the death of the beloved Immortal Emperor, and Calli still wondered every single day why nobody on this Force-forsaken planet had enough brainpower to wonder why an _immortal_ emperor was in fact _dead_. It was just one of her many, many complaints about Zakuul, really, and if she started trying to list them all she’d just be here for at least a week longer than she intended to be.

She fidgeted with her jewellery as she walked towards the crowded entryway, the gilded arches aglow with lights and gold panels that had to be worth more than the annual income of some smaller planets; Zakuul wasn’t shy about demanding their tribute from the planets under their sway these days, regardless of whether or not they needed it. Looking at the elaborate golden carvings, depicting no doubt overblown accounts of Zakuul’s history, Calli could most definitely say they were not in need of the tributes. 

She grimaced and did her best to hide the expression, plastering a brilliantly charming smile on her face instead as she held her clutch in front of her with both hands, presenting the most demure and unthreatening body language she was humanly capable of. The line for the gala was long, her fellow partygoers clearly displeased at being reduced to waiting in queues like some sort of common rabble. 

Smirking to herself, she bypassed the queue and sashayed straight to the front of the line, knowing that more than a few sets of eyes were fixated by the sway of her hips in the backless green dress she wore. Good- she needed to make an impression, turn a few heads. This wasn’t going to work if she couldn’t get the attention of at least one high-ranking Knight or Exarch, and her weeks and weeks of getting up at dawn to go running were apparently paying off. The dress seemed to be a success.

She smiled brightly at the woman standing at the entrance to the gala, pulling her digital invitation from her clutch as she approached. The woman smiled briefly, her gaze already moving on to the next few guests. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but at this point we’re only allowing VIPs to enter, general sale tickets will be permitted shortly-”

“Oh goodness, I thought this _was_ a VIP ticket,” Calli said flawlessly, feigning the beginnings of distress. A few of the faceless Knights turned towards them from their posts at the arches, their expressions unreadable beneath their helmets. “I could have sworn Uncle Gian said he’d get me the right pass- could maybe somebody fetch him for me, and he could clear this up?”

The woman visibly hesitated. “Your uncle wouldn’t happen to be Exarch Gian Tur, would he?” she asked dubiously. 

He wasn’t- of course he wasn’t her uncle, but the esteemed Exarch of Bothawui had a terrible predilection for gambling, and ever since his decision to use the Star Fortress he controlled to strike at the Bothan people, he’d been on the outs with the political establishment. She hated to say that she was at least happy that an asshole’s attempt at a genocidal act wasn’t met with the approval of his superiors, but there wasn’t much to be happy about these days, and she’d take what she could get. Being unpopular with his bosses meant that dear Exarch Gian had turned to gambling to soothe his bad mood, which through careful manipulation she and Bowdaar had been able to exploit. The Exarch was in so deep with them that the threat of his debts being exposed was more than enough to convince him to play along with their request for entry to the gala. 

“But why that?” he’d asked, from where he was kneeling on the floor of the backroom in the bar, his pants stained from alcohol and something that smelled suspiciously like piss. Being threatened by a wookiee tended to do that to even the strongest of men. “Why, out of anything you could have asked for, do you want a party invitation?”

Calli had shrugged. “I like parties,” she’d said. “And it’s not like I’m ever gonna get the chance to rub elbows with the galactic elite ever again in my life. Sometimes a girl just wants to live a little.” 

He’d hesitated, he’d honestly truly hesitated, but then Bowdaar had growled behind him and he’d whimpered in fear and babbled his agreement. Besides, what risk was she? She was just the little jeweller from the lower sectors, she wasn’t anyone important. She wasn’t Force Sensitive, she wasn’t cybernetically enhanced, she wasn’t anything that could threaten the stability of the glorious Eternal Empire at all; at worst, she might embarrass him, and that was something he achieved just fine by himself.

And here she was. With an elaborately forged slash stolen ticket to the gala, as provided by none-other than a disgraced Exarch she’d spent years meticulously blackmailing. 

If this didn’t work to get them to Lieca, she was out of ideas. 

The woman took the small glass shard from her, holding it up to the light to inspect the watermark etching while she scanned the chip in the frame. Calli stood politely, doing her best to look like she was genuinely anxious about the outcome of the scan, and decided against going so far as to wring her hands together in dismay. Probably overdoing it, that. 

With a restrained grimace, the woman finally handed it back to her. “My apologies, ma’am,” she said stiffly. “I’d appreciate it if you could convey our best wishes to your uncle for us.”

Translation- _please don’t tell an Exarch I fucked up_. Heh. 

Calli blasted her with a sunny smile, positively beaming at her. “Oh, I will, I absolutely will, thank you so much,” she said, swanning past her and into the hallway beyond. The moment she was out of sight of the guards at the gate she dropped the smile, stretching her jaw out almost comically as she winced. “Fuck, how do people keep that up all day,” she muttered, striding rather forcefully down the marble tiles as she subtly adjusted her jewellery again. 

She was rather proud of the pieces, if she did say so herself- all of them styled in the vaguely art deco style that Zakuul seemed so fond of, and all of them designed to assist her with the break-in tonight. The two pins holding up her hair were both dataspikes, preprogrammed with the security codes for the lower levels of the Spire to help her gain access once she managed to slip away from the party. Her ring had a tracking device in the jewel, which Lana alone had the trace key to, so that should she vanish tonight at least someone would have a vague idea of where to look for her. The necklace was a risk, with the sharper edges hidden underneath the frame, which she could remove in a hurry should she need a weapon or a tool to cut through wires or transparisteel if she needed an escape route. She had to be careful not to expose one of the edges early, and hurt herself on it. 

The most important piece of the collection was one of the earrings in the top of her ear- a small engraved bead that looked like nothing extravagant to begin with, but on closer inspection proved to be another dataspike, this one far more delicate and discreet than the two hiding in her hair. This was the one she needed to get into a port in a terminal somewhere in the Spire, preferably as close to the Emperor’s personal computers as possible. She didn’t really think they were running guided tours of the throne room or anything, so she’d just have to wing it. 

Best chance, some Exarch would be drunk and handsy, and she’d be able to lure them off somewhere private with the promise of sex, and go from there. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it had to work. 

She took a deep breath as she reached the end of the hallway- a similarly extravagant affair to the entrance, complete with ceiling to floor cascade fountains and elegantly styled hedges shaped into what looked like they were supposed to be people, but she had no idea who they were supposed to be. Rich people were fucking weird. She wondered at what point you looked at all your vast riches and went ‘ _you know what my house needs? A tree shaped like my mother_ ’. 

There was elegant music playing as she entered the gala, and she blinked at the sight of an entire orchestra seated on a dais on the far wall. The room was built into an open terrace, with the stars of Zakuul’s sky shining over them as the party goers mingled on the balcony and on the dance floor. There were more fancy statues, and enough Knights in shining armour to make her stomach queasy for a moment; a waiter came towards her as she hesitated in the doorway, and she very gratefully snatched up the proffered champagne flute, half draining it in one quick swallow. 

It probably wouldn’t look good to step inside and down an entire drink in the first thirty seconds. Someone would probably notice that. Probably. 

Gritting her teeth and affixing a smile again, she did her best to walk elegantly into the room (stars save her, these heels were going to murder her feet, how could anyone walk elegantly while they were being stabbed repeatedly with blunt knives), offering the smile up to anyone who glanced in her direction. She knew given the way she looked tonight that she’d get more than a few offers to dance, and she’d just have to take it from there and hope that she attracted the right sort of company. And if she didn’t, well- she’d already established herself as dumb and emotional down at the front door, so if she was caught wandering in parts of the palace she wasn’t supposed to be in, she’d already have witnesses who could vouch that she was ditzy and airheaded and probably got lost on her way to the powder room.

So many ifs, so many maybes. Fuck it, at least the alcohol was good.

_No, Calli, you can’t get drunk, you need to get the slice planted so that Lana can get the access codes to the storage facility to get your sister out. Getting drunk isn’t worth her life._

There was another tier outside on the balcony, and she realised with a nasty lurch of her stomach that the reason it was far less crowded was because the Emperor and his sister were out there, their seats set to overlook the entirety of the gala as if judging them all from afar. She felt a rush of hate as she stared in their direction, unable to make out their features from this far away, but able to distinguish them by the white and black outfits they wore, trimmed in gold. Colour didn’t seem to be something encouraged by Zakuulan culture, she realised with a brief flutter of dismay, given that her dress was by far the brightest amongst the crowd so far. Fuck, she hadn’t broken some cultural taboo had she, and she was about to be thrown out on her ear for daring to wear-

_No_ , she reminded herself pointedly as she took another drink of her champagne, _calm down. If there was a problem with what you were wearing, they never would have let you in the door._

Nonetheless, it was a little unnerving to look out over the sea of faces and see so little in the way of variety or vibrance in the outfits. The most striking colour choices seemed to defer to gold, or bronze, with various shades of black, grey and white the far more popular spread. There was one woman in silver, and a chiss in a tailored red and black tailed suit, but apart from that she felt remarkably exposed. 

Hah. _Exposed_. Like this dress wasn’t exposing enough of her already. Honestly, given how chilly it was out here on the terrace, it was a wonder her nipples didn’t count as concealed weapons. 

She snorted into her champagne, wishing she had someone here with her to make that joke to. 

“And what’s a fine young lady such as yourself doing here without company?” came a voice at her elbow; she nearly defaulted to snarling at the would-be lothario before she remembered where she was and what she was trying to achieve, instead forcing the fake smile to her face as she turned. There was a young man beside her, beaming expectantly at her, and there was nothing to signify what his rank was or how he’d gained entry to the party. 

Well, she had to start somewhere. “Oh, I’m actually here because my uncle bought me a ticket,” she started, and then reversed tack halfway through. Thrusting her bosom out towards him, she said “I’m an artist, and I design jewellery. He knew that this would be a wonderful opportunity for me to show off what I’m capable of- do you like what you see?”

The young man’s eyes bugged near clean out of his head. “I- ah, that is to say, yes, I definitely, um... would you like to dance?” 

She batted her eyelashes at him. “Oh, I would _love_ to dance,” she gushed, upending the last of her drink and setting it down on a balustrade. It was promptly collected by a servant who whisked it out of sight. “You’ll have to forgive me, of course, I’m all feet. If I fall on you, you’ll catch me, right?” 

“I- yes, yes of course, I definitely will.”

He led her over to the dance floor as the previous dance was ending, taking up position with one hand hesitantly coming to rest on her partially exposed hip while he held her hand in his other. 

She beamed at him. “My name is Talli,” she said, deliberately standing far closer to him than the dance required. “It’s short for Tallindra. What’s your name?”

“I- I’m Cailus.”

“And what do _you_ do, Cailus?”

“My, ah, father is on the planet’s administrative medical board. He’s the deputy chief of medicine.”

Oh, well what fucking good was that to her? “How _fascinating_ ,” she crooned. “What does that mean? Does he do all that icky medicine stuff? I don’t like blood.”

The ditzy persona was beginning to put him more at ease, and he smiled a little more confidently at her. “No, that’s hardly fitting for a lady such as yourself,” he said, moving them expertly through the moves of the dance. She knew how to dance, of course, she wasn’t stupid enough to turn up to an exclusive Zakuulan gala without learning how to dance their stupid dances first, but it worked more to her advantage if she fumbled a little and had to lean on him, pressing her breasts against his chest. His cheeks coloured at that. “I, ah, he’s mostly administrative, but he’s a surgeon, and-”

His eyes darted almost guiltily towards the dais outside. 

“You can tell me,” Calli said in a stage whisper, doing her best not to roll her eyes. 

“Well, he’s consulted multiple times in regards to the Emperor’s reconstructive surgeries, which is of course top secret work. I shouldn’t even be talking about it.” 

Calli feigned a scandalized gasp. “I can promise you, my lips are sealed,” she said, very pointedly licking them as she said so. 

Maybe the father would have access codes to the upper levels, if that was the case? Had he consulted in person, or only via holo? 

“Is your father here tonight?” she asked innocently instead.

Cailus sighed dramatically. “Sadly no,” he said. “He had business that took him elsewhere. I am here in his stead, to represent the family.”

Well then fuck him. 

Calli smiled brilliantly at him as the music wound to a close, peeling away from him as discreetly as she could manage. “Thank you _so_ much for the dance,” she said, squeezing his hand one last time in hers. “Promise me you’ll have time for another later on?” 

He seemed dismayed at her apparent disinterest in continuing their acquaintance, if the crestfallen look on his face was anything to go by. “I- yes, of course. I would love that.”

She debated whether blowing him a kiss would be overdoing it, and decided against it. Instead she simply turned her back on him and merged into the crowd, weaving in and out of the party goers as the dance floor behind her filled once more with couples and trios looking to enjoy an evening at the Emperor’s expense. An older woman caught her eye, her silver hair piled elegantly on top of her head, and her smile turned mischievous when Calli met her gaze; she crooked a finger at her, her dress a burnished bronze fixed with black accessories, and given the small metallic beads adorning her forehead, Calli suspected she might have been an Exarch. 

Hello, Lady Luck.

Calli smiled at her, curtseying as she stopped before her. “Good evening,” she said brightly, making sure that she leaned over just enough during the curtsey for her low cut dress to offer a substantial view of her cleavage. “Can I just say, I’m sorry to impose upon you, but I absolutely _love_ your sash.” 

It was as good an opening line as any, and the woman clearly seemed both amused and interested, so that was a good start. Calli spent five minutes charming the pants off of her, only to find out at the end that the woman was simply a historian in the royal archives, here to document the evening and the triumph of the Eternal Empire’s continued existence after the loss of the Immortal Emperor so many years ago. 

Potentially more helpful than Cailus the whelp with his red cheeks and boring backstory, but still. She had to do better than that. 

The evening continued without any significant success, to her growing frustration; it was harder and harder to keep smiling as the night went on, trying to make her way through the guests at the party without making it obvious what she was doing. She was beginning to feel slightly light-headed from the alcohol, not a great sign obviously, and she was just irritated enough that her composure was beginning to slip every now and then, and her answers came out snappier than she intended them to be. She’d been groped and pinched and lewdly fondled more times than she cared to count, and literally none of them were useful to her in the slightest. She didn’t want to say she was close to tears, because fuck that, but she was so fucking frustrated. This had to work, because if she didn’t find some way of getting past the security protocols on the Spire, she’d never find a suitable terminal to place the spike, and then Lana would never get through to Lieca, and then Lieca would die, and then- 

Fuck.

She turned sharply, intending to storm towards the privacy of the powder rooms so that she could at least have a moment to herself away from prying eyes, and smashed right into a woman in a black and gold dress. 

She felt something cold and wet soak through her dress immediately, and as she crashed to the ground she cried out as a crystal glass crunched beneath her elbow, the shards cutting into her skin. The woman fell on top of her, clearly ridiculously drunk, and that just smooshed the glass around more.

Well, wasn’t this just fucking fantastic. 

She wasn’t sure if it was the pain of the injury, or if it was the frustration of the night, or the fear that she’d failed her sister, but Calli knew she was crying as she snarled “Get _off_ me, you drunken bantha!” 

The woman slurred something as an answer, trying awkwardly to crawl back to her feet as her friends tried to help her upright. Calli didn’t have the benefit of help, and was left in a wine stained, bloodied puddle on the ground, grunting in pain when the woman staggered and stepped on her foot as well. 

“What is the meaning of this?” said a deep, oddly familiar voice.


	2. Chapter 2

Calli noticed that the circle of startled onlookers around her had frozen, and she glared upwards with tears in her eyes- and froze as well. She was expecting the guards to have come running, or possibly just the servants, but standing a few feet away, his single eye narrowed as he surveyed the mess before him, was the Emperor himself. Emperor Arcann, the most powerful man in the galaxy. The man who had imprisoned her sister so many years ago. 

The man who she hated just about more than she thought was humanly possible for a human to hate, and yet here he was. Right here. Physically within punching range. 

The plan had been for her to sneak into the Spire and plant a spike, but now that she was this close... no one had imagined that she’d be in a position where she could actually get close to him. He was the most reclusive man in existence, harder to lure into the open than a taun faun in the spring, and knowing he’d be at the same party as her had been a big hurdle for her to overcome. 

If she lurched to her feet in a hurry and pulled out one of her hairpins, maybe she could stab him in the neck before the guards could stop her or realise what she was doing-

“Has everyone gone mute? Answer me.”

The almost robotic drawl of his voice was far more... human, in person, than it was over the holonet announcements he made from time to time, proclaiming his brilliance as a leader and the infallibility of his reign blah blah blah, she’d never paid much attention to the nonsense he spewed. 

“She tripped me,” the drunken woman slurred, staggering close to him even as her friends tried to pull her back. “She can’ do tha’, you need to throw her out-”

She went to touch him, and his response was immediate; Arcann slapped her hand away so violently that the woman cried out, and Calli actually flinched at the sound it made. “ _I_ do not _need_ to do _anything_ ,” he said, the voice far too soft for a man who had caused so much pain. How fucking dare he, why would he use such a stupid fucking voice when he was a conqueror and a monster and a, a- fuck, she was running out of words to describe him, she was too angry and in too much pain and too frustrated. “Guards, please remove her.”

The two golden clad Knights at his elbows stepped forward immediately, grasping the woman under her arms and dragging her away despite her wailing complaints. Her friends said nothing in her defence, skittering backwards like startled ducklings as the guards took her in hand. There was an awkward silence in the circle of onlookers, before people realised it was probably not in their best interest to bear witness to this, and awkwardly turned away. 

Which left Calli, sitting in a puddle of blood and wine, with the Eternal Emperor standing over her. 

He held out his hand. 

She blinked at it. 

He let out a sound that might have been a sigh from behind the mask. “I do apologise for the behaviour of my guests,” he said, and oh fucking Force how dare he be _courteous_ to her, did he have no tact? He was a _tyrant_ , he wasn’t _supposed_ to be capable of being polite. “Can I help you, or are you planning on simply spending the remainder of the evening down there?” 

“I-” She tried to sit up a little more, wincing when the movement sent a fresh flash of pain down her arm. “ _Fuck_.”

She hadn’t meant to say it, but it was a kneejerk reaction; she saw the brief flicker of surprise in his eye, and then he stepped forward. Before she could say otherwise, he was behind her, helping her to her feet from behind and _oh Force fuck help he had a hand in the middle of her back why did her dress have such a low cut back-_

_Stab him now,_ the unhelpfully rabid side of her brain screeched. 

_If I stab him now, in the middle of a crowded ballroom, I’m going to be dead in about three seconds and I’ll never get the information to Lana. Don’t kill him. For Lieca. Do it for Lieca._

He kept his hand in the middle of her back, and despite how hard she tried she couldn’t stop the shivers that broke out where he touched her. “Come with me,” he said, starting to guide her forward. He must have felt her tense in a panic, because he clarified with “Unless you’d like to stay here, bloodied and soaking in alcohol?” 

She glanced at herself, wincing at the huge stain where the woman had spilled her drink on her. Well, it wasn’t like she was ever going to have anywhere to wear this dress ever again, so it probably didn’t matter if it was ruined. Still. It was a shame. 

Forcing herself to sound contrite, she said “Of course, your Majesty. I cannot tell you how grateful I am for your intervention.” 

The look he flashed her was a little odd, but she was too busy gritting her teeth and reminding herself over and over again not to kill him to really take note of it. The crowds surged out of their way, whispers trailing in their wake as the Emperor himself escorted a bloodied, bedraggled troublemaker from the gala. She wanted to close her eyes and wait for the ground to swallow her up, because surely she couldn’t have blown her cover any worse than this, surely- 

He led her into a side hallway, where there were more guards and servants waiting apparently in preparation for them. Passing her over to his staff, who had towels waiting, he said “See to it that she has somewhere private to recover. I have something I must attend to first.”

“First?” she asked, but he was already departing, back into the party as if she’d already vanished from his mind. “Wait, what did he mean by that?”

“If you’ll follow me, my lady, we will see to it that your injury is healed and your dress is repaired. Please, come with us.”

She blinked. They were... taking her deeper into the Spire without question? Just like that? For fuck’s sake, why had she wasted all evening trying to schmooze with people if all she had to do was trip over a drunk? 

She took a deep breath, and made a show of sniffing pathetically; it helped that there were already legitimate tears on her face. “Okay,” she said pitifully. “Thank you, thank you so much, you’re all so kind. The Emperor, he’s so kind.” 

She was led under escort into the Spire, far away from the party, and she had to fight not to cackle with glee when she felt the elevator taking them higher up, right towards the upper levels she’d been hoping to infiltrate in the first place. This was too fucking good to be true, something had to be wrong with this scenario. She couldn’t just be this lucky-

“Ouch,” she said instinctively, as a shard of crystal moved beneath the skin of her arm. Okay, well, maybe not that lucky. Still, it was worth it. For Lieca, it was worth it. 

The servants and her guards took her into a suite more opulent than anything out of her wildest dreams, and she’d seen the pictures of the royal digs back on Dubrillion when Risha had been showing them off to Geralt and he’d been grandly announcing his decorating plans. This high up, the tower had broken the stratosphere, and outside of the window was nothing but stars and darkness, with clouds below them; it was absolutely breathtaking, and she knew she was gaping like a simpleton but... holy shit.

The guards were polite enough at least to stand outside in the corridor but the servants were less easily dissuaded; they all but cut her out of the dress in their briskness, despite her protests about being able to undress herself and also her disinclination towards being stripped naked by a group of strangers. One of them scurried off with the dress while the other turned back to her, trying to herd her towards what she assumed was a refresher.

“I am quite fucking capable of washing myself!” she yelled, trying to stop them from following her into the room. 

“My Lady, we need to see to your arm, and cleanse the wound-”

“Arm, okay, but bathing, no! Grown ass people are quite able to bathe without supervision, you know!” 

The refresher was bigger than her first starship. That was a hearty lesson in humility, and just another reminder of how insignificant she was in the world these people moved in. She wasn’t even a bug on their radar, she was like... microscopic or some shit. Atomic level of insignificant. They thought it was normal to shit in a room bigger than where she’d lived for two years of her life. 

They sat her down on the... actually, she didn’t know what it was, it was some kind of wall? Who had a wall in a refresher, for no reason? Was it a bench? Who needed a bench? What were they doing in here for so long that it needed a bench? Were they folding towels in here? She winced as they expertly removed the crystal shards from her elbow, dabbing the wound clean with antiseptic before slathering it in kolto and wrapping the whole thing in a restrictive bandage. They were very efficient about the whole thing, and she almost didn’t think twice when they handed her a small plate with two capsules on it and a glass of water. 

“Hey, look,” she said uneasily, shaking her head, “I had my fair share to drink downstairs, I don’t exactly want to go mixing drugs and alcohol-”

“These are simply for the pain, my Lady, and they are perfectly safe to consume with any of the alcohol that was served at the gala this evening.”

She shook her head more firmly. “I would really rather not,” she said. 

They clearly weren’t used to any sort of defiance in the slightest, because they seemed confused as to her continued refusal to take the painkillers. She just stared at them, crossing her newly healed arms over her chest to try and maintain some of her dignity- it was _really_ hard to seem authoritative when you were sitting half naked and stinking of booze in front of strangers. 

She kicked them out of the refresher with some difficulty when it came time to bathing, and stars above and below didn’t that feel awkward being naked in the middle of enemy territory. Quite literally, too. She scrubbed up as quickly as possible, trying not to jostle her healing elbow and renew the bleeding. They’d left her with a robe and a towel, and she awkwardly put her jewellery back on as she pulled the robe on to cover her nudity; she winced when she looked in the mirror, taking in her bedraggled appearance and her lopsided hair. So much for all that effort she’d put into her makeup before she headed out tonight. 

“My Lady? Are you, ah... may we assist you?”

“I’m fine,” she called, rolling her eyes while they still couldn’t see her. She turned around as the door slid open, and the three of them were standing there anxiously, clearly waiting for her. “Look, I’m standing upright and everything. The world didn’t stop because I didn’t have someone to wash my armpits for me.” 

Someone laughed from the room behind them, and she froze. 

“My Lady, if you are decent, and able to receive company, his Immortal Majesty wishes to impose upon your time,” the front one said, looking almost distraught. Okay, they definitely weren’t used to people sassing back to them. 

She flicked a wet bit of fringe out of her face. “Who am I to interfere with his grandiose Majesty’s impositions?” she muttered, before forcing a smile back to her face. “Of course,” she said, louder this time, “I would just love to thank his Majesty for his kindness.” 

They backed away nervously, shuffling out of the doorway and apparently out of the room as well, if the sound of the door was anything to go by. Clenching her fists at her sides for a moment, she steeled herself, lifting her chin up and walking as gracefully from the room as she could manage. All she had to do was get rid of this asshole, and then she could try and find a terminal output in the room, or sneak out into the hallway and see what else might be on this level. This was her chance. 

So she had to do it in nothing more than a bathrobe, so what. Plans had to be flexible in order to be successful.

Her _plans_ somewhat staggered to a halt along with her feet when she exited the refresher and found the Emperor sitting on the edge of the bed closest to the door, his hands held loosely between his knees in a manner that seemed almost... comfortable? Like he wasn’t at all in Emperor mode, and was relaxed right now. 

_Relaxed enough to let his guard down so she could kill him?_

_Oh for fuck’s sake, one track mind, can we consider some other options?_

She sketched a quick curtsey, an awkward one since she was only wearing a bathrobe and nothing else, and tried not to feel like she was just snarling at him when she smiled at him. “Your Majesty,” she said, “I cannot tell you how grateful I am for your assistance, and the aid of your staff. Truly, you are a man whose generosity knows no bounds.”

When she looked back up, he was frowning at her slightly. That threw her, because it wasn’t exactly what she was expecting.

“Why are you doing that?” he asked after a moment.

She blinked, desperately tearing through the events of the evening to figure out what he was talking about. “Why am I... thanking you?”

“The gushing, the fake compliments, this... persona,” he said, gesturing to her almost dismissively.

Fuck. Was her cover blown so easily? 

“Every time you think your comments will go unnoticed, you’re honest. The moment you know you’re being watched? You’re a different person.”

Okay, well, that was the sort of candid observation that she absolutely hadn’t been expecting from him; she crossed her arms over her chest, wishing she had something more to hide behind than just a fluffy bathrobe. “I think you don’t know me well enough to be telling me how my behaviour comes across,” she said. “With respect, of course, Your Majesty.”

His single visible eye narrowed, as if he was smirking beneath the mask. “I don’t think you mean that with respect at all,” he said, coming slowly to his feet. Stars above, he wasn’t a hugely tall individual, but something about his presence made her feel six feet shorter than him, at least. “Why not be honest with me?”

She swallowed uneasily. “Well, if I’m being perfectly honest, _Your Majesty_ , I feel intensely uncomfortable with the fact that you’ve had me practically manhandled into your lair, had your staff strip me naked, and then left me alone with you. Forgive me if the trepidation about what you plan to do with me is making me snappish.” 

He didn’t respond for a moment, his eye fixed on her intently- stars, it was like molten fire, how was that even a thing? Lana’s eyes were crisp and bright and almost cat like at times, the yellow of her irises clear and unchanging, but his? His was like an incandescent fire, still smoldering in his face. 

She shivered, and tightened her arms until she was all but hugging herself, looking away from him. 

“I appreciate your honesty,” he said quietly, surprising her so much that she looked back at him. “Honesty is a trait sorely lacking amongst my staff.” 

She blinked. “I would say ‘ _you’re welcome_ ’ but you have to realise that’s a problem of your own making, right?” This couldn’t be happening, she wasn’t having a vaguely normal conversation with the Emperor himself while she was only dressed in a bathrobe. “If nobody is honest with you, that’s because they’re all fucking terrified of you.” 

She could just about hear Cera screaming in rage and horror at her bad language, and her apparent determination to get herself killed by sassing the most powerful man in the galaxy. 

He straightened his shoulders ever so slightly, as if puffing himself up. “People have good reason to be terrified of me,” he said.

She couldn’t help herself- she rolled her eyes. “Oh my _god_ , you asshole, that is _absolutely_ not something to be proud of.”

“Did you just call me an asshole?” 

“Well, apparently you like my honesty, so yeah, you’re a fucking asshole.”

It was his turn to blink in bewilderment. “I helped you downstairs,” he said, obviously confused.

“Whoop-de-doo, do you want a fucking medal for that?” 

“I could have just left you down there, humiliated and filthy.”

It took everything in her not to scream in his face. “And yet you didn’t- congratulations! You’re in possession of basic human decency, who knew! You might actually have a soul buried somewhere under that robotic monstrosity-”

He was in her space almost immediately, not touching her but looming in a very intimidating manner. “ _Do not_ ,” he said, almost spitting the words, “call me a monster.”

She was shivering, she knew, and she wondered how far away those guards had gone. Whether they were still waiting around outside the door, or whether he’d sent them away for privacy- if they were alone, maybe she could risk striking at him, incapacitating him somehow, in order to give herself time to plant the spike and escape. Fucking _stars_ , she’d never in her wildest nightmares imagined that she’d end up alone with the fucking Emperor himself. 

Nobody made contingency plans for this sort of thing. 

She swallowed, her eyes flickering to the soulless golden eye of the mask and then back to his visible eye. “I didn’t call you a monster,” she said, lifting her chin. “I called that mess you’ve got attached to you monstrous. There’s a difference.” 

_I would call you a monster if I thought I was going to survive the encounter, though_ , she thought.

The fire in his eye dimmed slightly, not burning quite so brightly as he took a step back. “Your opinion is noted,” he said, his voice gruff even with the robotic drawl. “Thank you for your honesty.”

Something about the way he said it, as if... _no_. She couldn’t _actually_ have hurt his feelings, could she? That would imply that he had feelings in the first place. Which was... _ugh_.

She huffed out a sigh, blowing a damp bit of fringe out of her eyes. “Okay, that was rude, I don’t... ugh. I’m sorry, whatever.” 

“No, no, I appreciate the candour,” he said, clearly withdrawing back into some sort of more official mode. “I rarely have the opportunity to meet someone unafraid to speak their mind around me. It is tiresome at times, having only brainless lackeys desperate to please me.” 

Calli could not, in a thousand years, ever have predicted that she’d be trapped in a room with the Emperor, listening to some sort of weird confession from him about how desperate for good company he was. This was some surreal sort of parallel universe, where the galaxy had gone all topsy-turvy, and it made sense to someone that she would be someone important enough to be the private confidante of the Emperor _oh my fucking god Callistra get over yourself_.

She licked her lips nervously, and his eye followed the movement. “I can’t imagine you’ve got a reputation for responding with kindness when people are blunt with you,” she said, still shivering. “The excessive wars you’ve waged and the brutality you’ve allowed to occur in your name certainly doesn’t inspire thoughts of benevolency in me.” 

“You think you have any understanding of what is required to maintain an empire-”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, no one _asked_ you to build yourself Arcann’s Funtime Empire, this isn’t some terrible burden that’s been piled on top of you that you have no choice but to go along with.” She stabbed a finger into his chest. “It’s all on you, bud.”

He looked down at her hand, at where she was touching him, and then back up at her. Oh stars, she was touching him. “Bud?” he asked, and there was a touch of amusement in his voice. 

Fuck, that voice, there was something about that voice that was tugging at her, like she’d heard it in a dream or something. Which was stupid, of course, because of course she’d heard his voice before, in all of his stupid grandiose speeches she’d seen on the holonet, but it was... different, in person. 

What did he look like, underneath that mask? Was his other eye molten gold, like this one was, or had the injuries that had taken his arm turned his eye pale and ghostly with blindness? 

She cut off the train of thought before it could continue, one hand nervously going up to fiddle with her hair as she glanced away. “Yeah, _bud_ , so what?”

“Are we buddies, now, are we?”

She threw him a withering look. “It’s slang, you asshole, Core World slang.”

“Ah. You are being insolent again. Amusing.” 

“I am not amusing, I am fucking serious, fuck you.” 

“I’m inclined to indulge you. Alright then.”

Calli froze. “I- what?” 

“You said ‘ _fuck you_ ’,” he said in amusement, stepping in closer; she still had her hand on his chest, oh fuck, why did she still have her hand on his chest- “If that’s a request, than I accept.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, even as her pulse surged. “ _Excuse_ me?” she asked incredulously, far more breathless than she intended to sound.

His visible eye glittered with amusement. “You intrigue me,” he said. “I find you... refreshing.”

“I’m not a fucking glass of cold water!” 

“And how can I know that without first tasting you?”

Oh my god, it should have been more than enough for her to slap him across his stupid mechanical robot face, she wouldn’t have stood for that sort of talk from anyone she met in a bar unless she was angling for free drinks. But here she was, gaping at him while he stared at her knowingly, probably smirking beneath that stupid robot mask thing, because she was mostly naked and he was stupidly, frustratingly handsome from what she could make out of his features, and it was-

Okay. She could be honest. There was a little something inside of her that, no matter how much she hated this asshole, couldn’t help but perk up eagerly at his offer, because holy shit he was the Emperor of the entire fucking galaxy. Who was she? She was nothing. She wasn’t Force Sensitive, wasn’t a fancy soldier, wasn’t an agent, had trouble keeping a job sometimes, she was literally _nothing_. And she was always reminded of the fact that she was nothing, because everyone in her life thought she was nothing but a scamp and a ne'er do well, flitting away from commitments as quickly as they arose. 

To have the Emperor, the man who ruled the entire fucking galaxy, taking time away from his own fancy party and telling her he wanted her-

_Don’t._

She shivered and looked down. “Please don’t patronise me, your Majesty,” she said from between gritted teeth. 

“Why would you consider my offer to be patronising?”

Calli rolled her eyes and glared up at him. “Because- fuck, do I have to spell it out for you?”

His hand had moved up to cover hers, where it rested against his chest. “Humour me,” he said, his tone still vastly amused. 

She swallowed awkwardly, licking her lips again; he was more direct this time in watching the movement. “Okay,” she said hesitantly, “well, you could honestly have your pick of anyone downstairs-”

“I could. I didn’t choose them.”

_Fuck_ , he couldn’t just _say_ things like that, that wasn’t fucking fair. “And none of them would fight you or insult you or call you names,” she said pointedly. His hand was warm. His fingers were just a little rough. Oh fuck. “In fact, they’d be falling all over themselves to flatter you and please you and do whatever the fuck you want to do in bed, no matter how kinky.”

He chuckled, and the sound sizzled right through her and fucking stars above and below she hated him for that. She wanted to squeeze her thighs together to stop the ache between her legs, and how dare that be something she had to worry about in the first place. “Perhaps,” he said, as if unconcerned by her arguments. “But I like my lovers to be willing- and sometimes it’s so very hard to tell where obedience ends and genuine consent begins.”

Her disgust must have shown in her face, because he corrected himself. “I do not force myself upon them,” he said, “and if you tell me to leave right now, my staff will see to it that you are dressed appropriately for your journey home, and your soiled garments will be returned to you upon repair. I will return to the gala, and we need not have any further contact.” 

Why was she trembling? “And- if I don’t tell you to leave?” she asked, unable to believe the words coming out of her own mouth right now.

He was _definitely_ smirking underneath the mask this time. “Then I stay, and I take you to bed, and I claim you so thoroughly that forever after, everyone will know that you belong to me.”

It was bullshit. It was ridiculous. It was overly possessive and domineering and fuck it all, it was working. “That can go both ways, you know,” she whispered, her voice shaking. 

He chuckled again, the sound warm and intoxicating, sinking into her blood like fine whiskey. “You think you can challenge me?”

“I think you fucking well need someone to,” she said. 

“Are you telling me to leave?”

She needed to tell him to leave. She needed to get rid of him, and go about with the plan, and use her time alone in this suite to plant the spike. The clock was ticking and her sister was depending on her, Lana was depending on her, and she seriously couldn’t fucking be standing here debating whether or not it was a good idea to fuck the man responsible for their current predicament. 

“I- I don’t know,” she hedged, even as his thumb stroked the back of her hand. Her hand that she still had on his chest. _Fuck_.

“I was watching you, tonight,” he said, and she moaned, like some hapless virgin in one of Lana’s stupid fucking romance books. That she definitely didn’t read when she was bored. “I was entranced by the woman in green, bold enough to walk amongst the colours of the night like a goddess of spring, bringing light and colour back to the dead earth.”

Oh, he- no. Fuck, he wasn’t allowed to do that. All fucking... no, she didn’t like corny poetry, and bad pickup lines, that didn’t work on her okay, it just. No. _Fuck_. 

“Maybe there’s no interesting symbolism and I just like the colour green,” she said, trying desperately to salvage the situation. 

“I like it too,” he said, his eye glittering in amusement. “I quite liked it on you. But I’d like to see it off you as well.”

She bit her lip. “I’m not even fucking wearing it right now!” she spluttered. 

“I know. An eventuality that pleases me no end.”

“You’re so fucking arrogant, oh my god.”

“I still haven’t heard you tell me to leave, yet.” 

If he stayed, she’d have an even better alibi for being in the tower. If he stayed, she’d have access for possibly hours, instead of just minutes. 

If he stayed, she could never, ever, ever tell anyone about what she’d done. This was for Lieca. That was it. For Lieca.

And a small tiny part of her burst into glorious life at the thought that someone as insignificant as her could be irresistible to a man as powerful as this. 

She nodded shakily, wetting her lips. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “you can stay.”


	3. Chapter 3

He moved forward instantly, his hand reaching for the top of the robe, and she pressed hard on his chest. “Wait, wait, wait,” she said, adrenalin surging in her. “I- uh... one condition.” 

The single visible eyebrow went up curiously. 

She shivered. “The mask,” she said, gesturing to his face. “The mask has to come off.”

The warm light in his eye died instantly, immediately replaced with something sharp and angry. “The mask does not come off,” he said flatly.

“Well, okay, then you don’t stay, simple as that, okay?” She was shaking, and she couldn’t believe she was actually bargaining with the Immortal Emperor himself for how they were going to have sex. “I’m not one of your overeager courtiers, or whatever you call your little minions, you aren’t just gonna fuck me while I lie back and think of Zakuul, okay? It’s just- it’s not happening.” 

“I do _not_ take the mask off for anyone.” 

“Well, I’m not anyone,” she said, the words hitting her in the gut despite how lightly she tried to say it. “If you want me, you will take the damn mask off and treat me with the respect I deserve.”

He stared at her for a long, painful moment, and she almost thought he was going to back off on his choice. Throw her out half naked and mission unfulfilled, humiliated and furious and horrified at how easily she’d let herself get distracted and how monumentally she’d failed her sister. 

Instead, he sighed loudly, as if exasperated, and stepped back. “Wait here,” he said gruffly, before turning and stalking towards the refresher. The door slid closed behind him.

Calli blinked. She was- fuck, she was alone, she had to move now, she wasn’t going to get a better shot at this than now. Fumbling for her earring, she lurched into action, hurrying over to the small living area of the suite to find an appropriate outlet. The walls were bare, there were no terminals, fuck, how were people supposed to live like this? She spotted a datapad on the arm of the couch and lunged for it, her fingers shaking as she turned it on and waited for the screen to load. 

It was his. Holy fuck, this was one of his datapads. It wasn’t a terminal, but it’d have a network connection to his private terminals, so that would have to do. Her hands were shaking so badly that it took her several attempts to get the spike into the dataport, and she nearly sobbed with relief when the tiny bauble on the end lit up, looking for all the world like it was just a part of the light display on the frame. 

She’d done it. She’d planted the spike. She’d saved her sister’s life, after five long years. 

She heard water running in the refresher and she dropped the datapad back on the couch, trying to remember how it had been sitting when she’d found it. When the door slid open again behind her, she was nowhere near it, standing by the table instead as she tried to remove the rest of her jewellery with hands that didn’t want to cooperate. 

He was going to know instantly, it was probably all a test, they probably knew she was a spy and they were going to arrest her and torture her for information and kill her, and he probably knew what she’d done and she was going to die-

“Close your eyes,” came a voice from behind her, far more human and far closer than she would have thought possible. He moved quickly, apparently. 

And again, without the filter of his mask, there was something extraordinarily familiar about his voice, even more so than it had been before- it was like a memory she’d forgotten, something she was desperately trying to remember, and she had no idea how that was possible given that she’d never met him before today. She hadn’t even met his brother, though she’d heard Cera talk about him and his wife from time to time, so she couldn’t even blame the familiarity on that. 

She gripped the edge of the table in her hands, and she wasn’t sure whether it was to stop herself from trying to attack him so she could escape, or whether it was to hold herself upright because she felt like she was a breath away from swooning backwards. She didn’t fucking swoon, damn it. Just because she was so turned on that it was making her light-headed didn’t mean she was going to swoon. “My eyes are closed,” she whispered. 

She felt something cold against the side of her neck, and realised it was the robotic fingers on his cybernetic arm, brushing aside the lopsided mess of her hair where she’d pulled it up hurriedly. “Good,” he murmured, and the sound she let out when he replaced his fingertips with his lips was positively embarrassing. Thank fuck she was never going to see him again after tonight. 

His other arm slid around her hip and tugged her up against him, and she could tell even with the robe between them that he’d stripped off a good deal more than just his mask. She couldn’t tell if he was completely naked without stopping to look, and he’d told her to keep her eyes closed, but- fuck.

Her robe fell open at his gentle tugging, and she whimpered at the touch of his hand on the bare skin of her stomach, even as his mouth moved over her neck, kissing and nuzzling and nipping. Fuck, he wasn’t allowed to be good at this, she hated him, he wasn’t allowed to- fuck. She couldn’t even _think_ straight. 

When his kisses traced up to her jaw, she started to turn her head almost instinctively to meet his mouth in a kiss, but he growled against her skin. “ _Don’t_ look,” he said, the warning in his voice far too sexy for her to think she was anything but off in the head. 

“I’m _not_ ,” she said in frustration, whimpering again when his teeth grazed her skin; the whimper drew out into a moan when his hand cupped her breast, his thumb tracing at her aching nipple. “Fuck, I’m not, I promise.”

“I’ve learned the hard way not to take promises at face value.”

“You’re so fucking paranoid,” she panted, arching against him when he bit down at the junction of her neck and her shoulder. “ _Fuck_.”

She felt his robotic arm tugging at her robe, and for a moment she thought he meant to pull it off of her entirely, but then after a moment she felt something slithering along her back. The cloth belt? What was he doing with that? 

The answer came a moment later when he stepped back slightly, just enough distance between them that she moaned in needy frustration. He chuckled again, and she’d never admit it to anyone at any point in the entirety of the galaxy’s lifespan, but fuck she loved that laugh already. “Patience,” he said, and then she felt the cloth come down around her eyes, firmly tied off at the back even as she started laughing.

“Really? A blindfold? Are you serious?” 

“A minor inconvenience, I’m sure, but it allows me to do this.” 

She had some smartass comment ready and waiting on the tip of her tongue, but whatever it was completely melted out of her brain as he tilted her face back towards him, and pressed his mouth to hers.

_Fuck._

She might have whimpered, she wasn’t sure- she didn’t put much stock in kissing, normally, because someone always had bad breath, or it was too wet and sloppy, or it was forced on her by drunken bar patrons who thought that her lack of a clear no meant that they had leave to take what they wanted. But fuck. Fucking fuck. She’d been doing it all wrong before now, clearly. 

She could feel the scars on his lip as his mouth moved over hers, teasing and challenging as he kissed her. It felt smoother on that side, the skin harder with scar tissue, and she wanted to explore it with her tongue and her fingertips, but she didn’t think she needed to push her luck that much. He was gentle, that surprised her- passionate, yes, but he didn’t push her to start with, as if realising he’d taken her by surprise and was giving her space to object. 

She was finding it harder to find reasons to object- so she kept kissing him instead. 

“This doesn’t mean that I’m like one of your little courtiers,” she panted, in between the kisses. 

She could practically feel the amusement radiating off of him. “Of course not,” he said.

“I mean it. I’m here because I want to be. You took the mask off for me.”

“And I intend to make it worth both our whiles, believe me.”

He spun her around sharply, so that she was facing him, and- oh. Yep. Definitely naked, just like she was. If someone had come along and offered to set fire to her in that moment, she probably would’ve turned them down because a fire would’ve been cold compared to how her skin felt right now. Definitely _impressively_ naked, too, even without being able to get a look at him.

Honestly fuck him, how dare he be well endowed as well as sexy. That wasn’t fair. There were supposed to be rules about this. 

“Give a girl a little warning,” she gasped, stumbling on her feet a little; without sight, she was a little awkward in her balance. 

“Alright- consider this your warning.” She shrieked as his arms went under her back and her legs, and she found herself scooped up into the air and clasped tight against his chest.

“Fuck! What the fuck!”

“If you kick me in the head, this will be a lot less fun.”

“That wasn’t warning at all!” 

“So I suppose this doesn’t count as warning either?” She shrieked again as he dropped her suddenly, trying to grab at him before she bounced on the bed, her heart in her throat. 

She fumbled to sit upright; she would have tried to cover herself, but honestly, she had no idea where he was standing, and she wasn’t really that concerned about nudity. They were gonna fuck, that usually required nudity, and she was pretty impressed with herself most of the time. Okay, so maybe since he was an Emperor and could have whoever he wanted in his bed, his standards were pretty damn high, but- fuck. She couldn’t think. She was on fire and she was angry at herself for falling so easily into bed with someone she was suppose to hate but who was bizarrely human in person and just. Fuck. Fucking fuckity fuck. 

When she was sure she wasn’t about to just swear relentlessly at him, she said “No, that fucking well doesn’t count as a warning!” 

Eh, points for trying. She only swore once. 

She felt the mattress dip as he climbed on after her, and she moaned as his hand ran up the inside of her calf. “My apologies,” he said, sounding completely gleeful and unapologetic. “Should I submit my intentions to you in writing at least a day beforehand for your consideration?”

“You are such a smartass,” she panted, the sound trailing off into a moan as his hand drifted higher. “ _Fuck_.”

“It’s been a very long time since I’ve had the opportunity to do this,” he said, and she felt him nudging her thighs apart. “The mask, you understand. Forgive me if I’m a little rusty.”

“What are you-”

She just about screeched when he kissed the inside of her thigh, and his chuckle infuriated her. “My my, perhaps a long time for yourself as well?”

“Fuck you,” she said hoarsely, biting her lip and actually one hundred percent grateful for the blindfold at that moment, because if she had to make eye contact with him while he went down on her, she might actually die. Because it _had_ been a long time, but he didn’t have to know that. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Patience- we’ll get to that.” 

She was a little more prepared for it, but she still sobbed at the heat of his mouth as he went to work, kissing and suckling and stroking her with his tongue and his fingers. Fuck him and his fucking marvellous tongue, how fucking dare he _sweet fucking stars above help_. She was making the most embarrassing noises, she knew she was, and yet she couldn’t stop no matter how hard she tried, mewling and writhing and whimpering beneath him as he laughed and slowly drove her wild with his mouth. 

When she came, her thighs tight around his head, she gave up all pretense of control and just screamed, arching off of the mattress as his fingers dug in tight to her hip. When he pulled away with a wet sucking noise, she could hear the amusement in his voice. “I take it you enjoyed yourself?” he asked breathlessly.

She couldn’t catch her breath, so it took her a moment to respond with “Fuck you.” 

He chuckled, and he crawled slowly up her body. “I’m getting to that,” he said smugly. “I thought you might want time to recover first.” 

Her heart lurched, because she couldn’t tell if he was teasing her or not, and if he was laughing at her right now she just... she didn’t know what she’d do. “You’re such an asshole,” she said hoarsely. 

“Are you always this charming in bed?”

“You should see me at dinner parties.” 

He laughed- genuinely, openly laughed, and her heart lurched again. _Don’t you fucking dare_ , she scolded it. “I’ll make a note of it,” he said, and she wished she could see his face. She wanted to see what his face looked like, especially when he smiled. 

_Don’t. You fucking. Dare._

He covered her body with his, the weight of him stunning and delightful in one; she was small enough that it wasn’t unusual for her bedmates to be larger than her, but it was always particularly thrilling to feel, mm... maybe overpowered was the right word. It was a nice challenge, at the very least. 

She shivered at the feel of the metal plates on his shoulder and chest, but didn’t voice a protest about it. Which was just as well, because a moment later he was kissing her again, and she could taste herself on his lips and that was thrilling as well; holy fuck, she’d had the Emperor of the entire fucking galaxy go down on her. She needed to write in anonymously to Cosmo. 

He kissed her, and she kissed him back, and everything sort of escalated from there beyond anything sensible. She shouldn’t be in bed with him, naked and grinding together, sweaty and eager and hungry for what they were building towards. She should have been fleeing from the palace district as fast as she could humanly manage, racing to meet up with Lana at the rendezvous point or at least get back to Bowdaar to stand in preparation as a backup team. 

But damn it all. She was so used to being nothing and for one brief shining moment she was something, and she was someone glamorous and desirable and sexy and important enough to turn an Emperor’s head. 

Just this once, she wanted this for herself too. 

She cried out when his hand slid between them, his fingers stroking at her again; she was grateful at least that he didn’t use the robotic arm, because there was probably a limit to what she was willing to do tonight, and betraying all of her ideals and her friends and family by sleeping with their enemy seemed to have taken up most of it. 

“ _Ah_ ,” she sobbed, writhing beneath him. “Fuck, Arcann!”

His chuckle sounded strained, as if it was beginning to test his control now too. “You’ve got me at a disadvantage,” he rasped. “You know my name, but I didn’t ask yours.”

Fuck, she was sleeping with someone without even swapping names, that was- well, okay, it wasn’t the first time she’d done that. Probably the first time she’d done it sober, though, if she had to be honest. The fake name was on the tip of her tongue, panting desperately as she clung to his shoulders. “I-” Fuck, wait, what was her fake name? “Calli,” she stuttered. “It’s Calli.” 

She could almost hear him smiling. “Calli,” he said hoarsely, and oh stars, hearing her name in his voice was just... it was stunning. It was like the memory half remembered, pressing desperately at her as if begging her to recall it. 

She cried out as he pushed into her, not out of pain but out of the sheer overwhelming sensation. He crowded all of her senses except sight, her eyes still bound by the cloth belt from earlier, and to be honest she was almost grateful for it at this point. If she had to see his face right now, see his expression as they rocked together and he mouthed her name silently, she didn’t know whether she’d be able to cope with that. 

“Oh my god,” she whimpered, kissing him desperately when his mouth trailed back to hers. She dug her nails into his back, her thighs tight around his hips as he thrust into her. 

Fuck, she was fucking the Emperor, she was fucking Arcann, she was- oh gods, she was betraying everything that she was supposed to stand for and she was just _really_ fucking enjoying herself while she did it, he was really fucking good in bed and it’d been such a long time and she was stressed and she was frustrated and she just-

Fuck. She was enjoying herself. No one ever had to know. 

And he was _really_ good. 

“ _Arcann_ ,” she rasped, meeting him in his thrusts; she managed a shaky smile when she heard him grunt at her actions, his motion faltering for a moment as a shudder rippled through him. 

“Do that again and you’ll just embarrass me,” he growled.

She laughed breathlessly. “Is that a challenge,” she asked.

“ _No_.” He kissed her so hard it stole the breath from her lungs, and then he was increasing his pace and changing the angle and then oh fuck-

She liked dramatic orgasms, normally, and she wasn’t ashamed of the fact that she’d been known to fake them on occasion- the performance itself was half the reward, after all. He’d already gotten her once with his tongue, so she hadn’t honestly been expecting a repeat so quickly, and especially not from something so vanilla. 

She was so mad when she felt the peak crumbling beneath her again, and she went toppling right into another orgasm. 

Fuck him and his magnificent dick, honestly. 

He grunted, his face buried in the curve of her neck as his own completion took him- holy fuck, was he wearing protection? Was she supposed to have been responsible for that? Shit, fuck, she didn’t want no tiny dictators in her belly, no thank you. 

She was about to snarl angrily at him for it, when he surprised her- he lifted his head and kissed her, literally cutting the words off before they could leave her mouth. His hand came up to cup her cheek almost gently, and that in itself was stunning enough to leave her brain completely blank and unresponsive. Even worse when her hand drifted higher to cradle the back of his head, keeping him held close to her, because what kind of traitorous bullshit was that, now, hand? Way to let down the team.

He nuzzled at her mouth, and it was so bizarrely tender that she gasped, shivers breaking out over her skin in response. 

“Calli,” he murmured, and there it was again, the eerie familiarity with hearing him say her name. 

“Yes, Arcann?”

She could feel him grinning against her mouth. “I won the challenge,” he said.

She hit him with the fucking pillow. 

____

She considered sneaking out after he fell asleep, she really did- it made sense to a certain extent, to get away before the alarms started going off on what was hopefully a successful rescue mission taking place right now. If everything was going according to plan, Lana would have taken the details she could from the slice and gotten Lieca out by now. Or something. 

But she didn’t know how to get out of this place by herself, not this high up, and she couldn’t guarantee that she wouldn’t fumble into his damnable servants again desperate to wipe her damn ass for her without asking her first. Or guards, that would probably be worse. And hey, currently all she had was a bathrobe to wear, so if she tried to sneak out in that, she wouldn’t get very far. 

Which left waking up awkwardly beside him the next morning, and waiting for the inevitable curt dismissal. He’d gotten what he wanted, an easy fuck, and that was all there was to it. Maybe that was for the best, though, because that would mean there was less chance of her presence here tonight being connected to Lieca’s rescue. If she snuck away, that might place more suspicion on all of them.

Fuck it all, it was too hard. She didn’t like these sorts of decisions, she much preferred to fly by the seat of her pants- which, to be honest, was probably how she’d ended up in this situation in the first place. 

He was apparently an easy sleeper, because it didn’t take long before she was pinned beneath his outstretched arm, the soft heat of his breath on the back of her neck as he snored quietly. Huh. The terrifying Immortal Emperor liked spooning. Who would have guessed. She lay there in the darkness trying to consider her options- like whether or not it was safe for her to take off the blindfold or not, or whether he’d yell about that in the morning- and after a time she found herself drowsy as well. It had been a fucking stressful night, after all, and she was exhausted in more ways than one, and it was a wonderful, amazing bed, better than anything she’d ever slept in before. Arcann was warm behind her, and fucking stars, it was so weird that she was... not terrified? Of lying in bed with him? What the fuck was wrong with her, honestly. 

She’d begun to think that perhaps it was safe to drift off to sleep, that maybe she could just trust Lana and Koth to do their part of the extraction and maybe she could run interference at this end if necessary, when she heard the faint whoosh of the door to the suite sliding open. 

She tensed immediately, cursing herself for leaving her jewellery on the table on the other side of the room; she could kick and bite like a nexu when need be, but anyone talented enough to break into private chambers on the upper levels of the Spire where the Emperor was currently vulnerable was going to be someone far more talented than she was. 

_You infiltrated the Emperor’s private chambers on the upper levels of the Spire, you shit._

To wake up Arcann or not? What if it was Lana, come to rescue her, or what if she was just hearing things? What if he was angry at her, thinking her to be in on whatever scheme this was and assuming (rightly, of course) that she was involved in a plot against him and-

Someone touched her arm, and she nearly screamed. “My Lady?” came a faint whisper. “My Lady, you must awaken and come with me.”

She recognised the voice from earlier, one of the overbearing goons who’d stolen her dress. “What the fuck are you doing here?” she whispered back harshly. 

“My Lady, please, you must come with me. None are permitted to remain with the Emperor overnight. He will be most displeased to see you in the morning.”

All of the goodwill she’d been feeling towards Arcann, the tentative acknowledgement that there might have been a human behind the tyrant’s mask, abruptly evaporated. “He _what?_ ”

They tugged on her arm. “My Lady, please, we may continue this conversation in the recovery room. Please follow me.”

She was all but dragged from the bed by overzealous hands, and she spat and snarled at them even as they hushed her desperately and hurried her from the room. The hallway beyond was dark, apparently to keep them from spilling light over the bed and waking their precious fucking Emperor who was apparently too much of a chickenshit to speak to people himself and at the very least thank them for a decent fuck because _no, apparently_ he had to have them forcibly dragged out by his fucking slaves like a thief caught with their hands in the produce. 

She was dumped into a chair in a rather bland looking room, that looked ominously more like some kind of medical facility than a guest room. “What the fuck is this?” she snarled, trying to cover her nudity as the three of them stood before her.

They looked confused by her question. “My Lady,” the first speaker said, “the Emperor does not permit his chosen partners to remain overnight.”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time you said that, why the fuck is that even a thing?”

“His glorious Immortal Majesty does not wish to be burdened with the tiresome nature of some goodbyes,” he said. “We are to express to you his thanks for your services this evening-”

“My _services?_ ”

“And provide you with everything you require in order to be on your way,” he finished. 

“I’m not a fucking whore! You can’t just ply me with trinkets and pat me on the fucking head and expect me to run along all sweet and polite!”

“Do you require a hormonal stim, to prevent any chance of pregnancy?”

She was going to scream. She was going to smash someone’s fucking head into the fucking ground and she was going to scream. “You know what? No, no I don’t, because maybe I want to keep the little spawn and blackmail him with it-”

“That is not an option, my Lady. We are authorised to subdue you if necessary, if we believe that conception is a notable risk.”

“Well maybe he couldn’t fucking well get it up, huh? Did you think about that?”

Two of them looked at each other. “I’ll fetch the stim,” the second one said. 

“You fuckers aren’t stabbing me with no needles!” she yelled, climbing up onto the chair and trying to crawl over it. Naked, of course, which made the whole ordeal much more undignified. “Get the fuck away from me!” 

“My Lady, please, there’s no need to get hysterical.”

“Oh, I haven’t even _begun_ to show you fuckers hysterical!” 

Something sharp pinched her in the side of the neck, and she snarled and tried to bat it away. Her arm didn’t seem to want to respond, and she tried to yell about that. Her mouth didn’t want to work either. 

Everything went dark.

____

When Arcann woke the next morning, it took him a moment to recall why it was that his face was exposed, and the reasons for it. There was still that moment of panic when he woke up unmasked, his heart lurching sickeningly into his throat, before it subsided again as his memories of the previous evening trickled back to him. 

The sheets were drenched with the scent of sex, and he smirked into the pillow, stretching lazily as the smell made his cock perk up. He reached over, and found nothing but cold sheets.

He opened his eyes- the other side of the bed was empty.

He blinked- winced, rather, because he still wasn’t comfortable with bright light on his damaged eye- and patted the sheets, finding no trace of warmth at all. The woman, Calli, who had lain there last night, had been gone for hours. 

She’d _left_ him. How _dare_ she. 

He fumbled out of the sheets and to his feet, stalking over to the console hidden in the wall nearby. With a brief bioscan to determine his identity, it opened; he rubbed aggressively at his face, feeling painfully exposed without his mask, but too angry to care fully. He stabbed at one of the buttons, and almost instantly a holographic figure appeared on the display. 

“Your Immortal Majesty,” they began, “how may I-”

“The woman who was in my quarters last night,” he snarled. “She’s fled. Have her found, and bring her to me.”

The servant stared at him for several seconds, long enough that Arcann felt his temper spiking. “What is so confusing about those instructions? Bring her to me, or you will all face my wrath!”

“My- my Lord, your Majesty, the young lady...” 

“Spit it out!” he roared.

“We removed her during the night!” 

The words sunk into him with all the subtlety of a walker landing on top of him. “You did _what?_ ”

“We- we removed her? As per your regular instructions? She was treated and debriefed and escorted from the palace district some hours ago, in complete health. She took nothing with her, despite the usual offers of compensation.” 

“You sent her away,” he said hollowly. 

“Your Majesty, you have my most humble apologies, I throw myself at your mercy and beg for your grace in this situation-”

“Her name was Calli,” Arcann snarled, rubbing at his face again. “Pull up the guest list, and tell me who she was.”

“I- yes, yes Your Majesty, of course.” The servant turned away slightly, keys clinking offscreen, and then there was a few moments of silence as they perused the guests from last night’s gala. “... ah, there is no one by that name on the guest list.”

“Are you deaf as well as stupid? Find her! Pull the security tapes, interrogate the guards, find out who she is!” 

Another light began to flash on the console, and he almost smashed it with his fist; somehow he managed to click on it instead, and Vaylin appeared in front of him.

“Ooh, brother, don’t you look so handsome this morning,” she crooned, wrinkling her nose in disgust at him. 

“What do you want, Vaylin?” he asked flatly. “I have things I need to attend to.”

“Well,” she drawled, making a show of inspecting her nails, “I think you’ll want to attend to them later, perhaps.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t care about your bullshit riddles, Vaylin-”

“The Outlander has escaped, brother dear,” Vaylin said airily. “I’m off on a treasure hunt to find her. Just thought you might like to know. Ta ta!”

The line disconnected, and Vaylin vanished. 

He roared, and his cybernetic arm tore the console from the wall.


End file.
